Problem Child
by INMH
Summary: She wasn't entirely certain why she did it. (Shattered Memories) Warning: Violence, references to past attempted rape.


Problem Child  
**Rating:** PG-13/T  
**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort/Drama  
**Summary:** For hc_bingo, prompt "Theft". She wasn't entirely certain why she did it. Warning: Violence.  
**Author's Note:** I… Have wanted to write Shattered Memories fic for a while. I've wanted to write Silent Hill fic for a while, but scenarios just weren't coming for me.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami/Vatra.

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She wasn't entirely certain why she did it.

It wasn't like she was part of a group, some kind of competition to see who could bag the most stuff. It wasn't like she _needed_ a lot of it, either: The CDs? She had a laptop, an iPod and an iTunes account- Cheaper to get music that way. She had plenty of clothes and plenty of make-up, enough that she didn't really need anymore. The chocolate was the only stuff she made regular use of, something to nibble on as she walked home.

It came with a mix of pride and shame. Stealing was wrong, and it wasn't gray-area stuff like stealing food because you don't have any at home; she was taking things she didn't need, sometimes even things she didn't really want once she had it. To that end, she knew she was a bad person. But to another end, there was something impressive about how many times she had succeeded in snitching stuff without getting caught: Of some forty-something times, only once had she been pulled aside by the security guards.

They must have thought that she was a first-timer, a newbie, because her fake-as-hell story about bumping into the shelf and how it must have caused those two lipstick tubes to fall into her bag on accident certainly hadn't convinced them. One had stood off to the side and watched while the other (M-something, she didn't think to look at his name-tag until he was walking away) listened and nodded and gave her an 'I-don't-believe-you-but-for-now-I'll-let-you-leave'-flavored speech.

"I don't want to have to bring you in, all right? So why don't you just put those back and we'll call it a day."

She nodded, eyes wide and sweet and innocent, and the guard gave her a pat on the shoulder before moving on. She returned the lipstick to the shop and silently vowed that she would be more careful next time. They wouldn't catch her next time.

"How was your day?" Her mother asked when she got home, and she didn't spare her a glance as she walked to her room.

"Fine." The sound of her bedroom door shutting cut off whatever her mother started to say next. She put the things she did manage to snag- three CDs and a videogame- into the second of three drawers in her dresser. Her mother didn't come into her room so much anymore, was too busy to snoop and less concerned of it now that she was an adult. Or maybe she had just given up.

It's a small drawer full of treasures: Previous items she had taken, and various trinkets she had collected as a child. It ranges from DVDs and jewelry to tiny stones that she had collected on the riverbank and painted with her- With-

She slammed the drawer shut.

In spite of her vow to be more careful, her promise to make sure that no security guards were watching her next time, she got caught again two weeks later. She was perusing the photography store and had just snitched two memory cards for a digital camera (in spite of the fact that she didn't own a digital camera). That store was always easy, because the guy behind the counter was clearly sweet on her.

The guards weren't, though.

"Miss? Step aside, please?"

_Crap._

Yeah, she was caught this time.

Running wasn't an option. She would like to be able to come back to the mall again, and if she ran, it would make things much worse. And so she heaved a sigh and turned around to face the security guard that had apparently been watching through the store window, must have caught her as she slipped the memory card cases into her bag.

It was the guard from last time. Not the one that had spoken to her, but the one that had stood off to the side and just watched, studied her. M-something- "Malcolm", the name-tag said. There was something about his appearance that made her freeze as he approached and started to talk. She couldn't hear the words, only saw his lips moving and his face, which was very serious and gentle but firm (_he's a father he has to _be). His hair was brown and so were his eyes, and they looked so, so sad, so disappointed, so disappointed in _her, _and he was wearing glasses-

Something disconnected, and the noise in her head was deafening.

_WHY DID YOU GO WHY DID YOU LEAVE WHY DID YOU DISAPPEAR AND LEAVE ME ALL ALONE I LOVED YOU AND YOU HAD TO GO WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO I MISSS YOU I MISS YOU PLEASE COME BACK I'LL DO ANYTHING JUST PLEASE COME BACK DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE AGAIN WITH HER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I HATE YOU FOR LEAVING ME HATE YOU FOR GOING AWAY AND LEAVING ME ALONE I HATE YOU I HATE YOU **I HATE YOU HATE YOU HATE YOU HATE YOU-**_

And then she was back.

The space in front of her was clear. The guard was gone- where was he? Had he just lectured her and walked away? Of course not, he had caught her red-handed this time, he wouldn't just let her go, not after the last time-

She looked down.

The guard was lying on the floor, motionless. The knife was sticking out of his shoulder, and she recognized it as the one that she had started to carry with her after that asshole Steve decided to try and force his way to third base last year in his shitty red sedan. What was it doing in the guard's shoulder?

It took a moment, the wire slowly reconnecting, and she heard screaming and shouting, saw the blood pool growing larger, and she was stepping away until the backs of her knees hit the seat of a bench-

It was then that Cheryl realized: _Oh. It was me._

And she wasn't entirely certain why she did it.

-End


End file.
